dark matter
by hisgirltuesday
Summary: He is the space in the cracks that hold everything together in her beautifully broken world. M/F.


**notes:** Found this partially written fic gathering dust among the files on my laptop from months ago and decided to polish it up :U Loosely follows the events in the series, along with some other added things.

**notes2:** Don't own Max Ride, Byron's "Darkness", Dickinson's "Hope is the thing with feathers", or Plath's "Mad Girl's Love Song".

* * *

.

close your eyes

and maybe someday

you'll see the damage

you caused

.

::::: dark matter :::::

.

_She's stuck in a moving four by four death box on cables with him and it's then that she realizes love isn't enough._

.

* * *

**"hope" is the thing with feathers**

**that perches in the soul**

**and sings the tune without the words**

**and never stops—at all**

* * *

When she wakes, he's the first thing she sees: a mass of motionless black feathers huddled in the farthest corner in the cage next to hers. Her body is still aching from the dose of who-knows-what the Whitecoats injected her with, but she manages to crawl over in the dim light, cold steel bars pressing against her face.

"Hey you," Max hisses softly. She's never spoken to him in the past, but she's seen him behind one way windows in white rooms before.

He twitches and shifts but there's no acknowledgement from him. It's then that she spies a dark spot of something he's lying on and he narrows her eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

That was a stupid question, and she mentally berates herself. Everyone in this cursed facility was hurt one way or another. She doesn't have time to say another word when the lab door swings open and suddenly it's too bright. The Whitecoat walks to her aisle and she prays that the telltale footsteps will pass on to the next. He stops in front her cage when a second comes up and whispers in his ear.

"No, not this one; take the boy."

Her heart nearly stops when they open his cage, and for the first time, she sees his face. It's broken and bruised and it's contorted in silent pain. The liquid he's been lying on is suddenly shiny and red.

"Stop it! You're hurting him!" The words escape her mouth before she even realizes what she said.

"Be quiet, brat. You know you're glad it isn't you."

They carry him away and she's powerless to do anything but watch as the door shuts and clicks closed.

Max doesn't see him in two days.

* * *

**and sweetest — in the Gale — is heard —**

**And sore must be the storm —**

* * *

The Whitecoat shoves her in her cage rather roughly, probably angry that she ignored directions for the lab, but she manages to land a few good blows on his face before her head met steel bars. Black dots dance across her vision and she lies on her back for a minute. When she manages to roll over to her side, her eyes land on the boy, whose dark eyes were focused on her own.

Her eyes widen and she drags herself over.

She wants to introduce herself, but "You were gone for three days" is what actually makes it out of her mouth. He continues to stare at her, and suddenly she feels very small.

"I'm Max," she finally says softly.

He tilts his head to the side and they both don't hear the footsteps nearing their cages.

When they take him away, he doesn't go without a fight.

* * *

**that could abash the little Bird**

**that kept so many warm —**

* * *

He's broken and battered, cuts on his feet and arms. He's lying on his back, and she knows that he's barely breathing. She forces an arm through the bars and reaches for him but he's too far away.

"Don't you die on me," Max whispers. He can't die. It's been a week since he was moved next to her; she's formed a quirky kind of friendship with him since he never really talked and she was the one had to fill the silence with words. She sits there, desperately searching for something, anything that she could do to help him but suddenly the door is open and the kindly old Whitecoat by the name of Jeb rushes in with a few other scraggly experiments in tow.

In a corner of her foggy mind, she distantly recalls Jeb whispering that he'll get her out of here. But before she can even say anything, she's roughly grabbed and Jeb turns to the door.

She finds her voice.

"I'm not leaving him," she says, voice laced with finality. "Take him too."

Iggy turns to her and she meets his milky blue eyes.

"You'll like him," Max offers to her old cage neighbor. She turns and stares straight at Jeb.

"I'm not going to let him die before knowing his name."

* * *

**i've heard it in the chillest land —**

**and on the strangest Sea —**

* * *

He catches her in the hallway of the house right before she goes to sleep.

"Hi," she says, voice slightly scratchy.

He offers a unsure smile. The bedroom light casts a soft glow to his face, illuminating the bruises.

She steps closer and faces him. His dark eyes follow her every movement and she hesitantly touches his cheek; he doesn't flinch.

"Are you okay?"

"I will be," he whispers the words so softly that she has to strain to hear them.

She smiles at him. "I'm glad," she says, then turns to her room. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Thank you."

Max whips around and shoots him a questioning look. The half smile is still on his face.

"For not leaving me there to rot," he explains, running a hand through messy black locks. "I'm Fang, by the way."

She smiles a little wider. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Fang."

* * *

**yet — never — in Extremity,**

**it asked a crumb — of me.**

* * *

He becomes her best friend over the years; there wasn't really anyone else she could find to share all her secrets with. She knows that he prefers tea over coffee and he knows that she can't sleep with the window open.

One day she screams in a Wal Mart bathroom stall and she rushes to a female employee and hastily explains her situation. Some time later she finds Iggy and Fang again, the latter prodding her for why she was gone for a whole fifteen minutes to use the restroom.

Max looks away and mumbles.

"What?"

"Girl problems," she grinds out.

He shoots her an incredulous look as if she was stupid. "You can tell me anything, you know that right? We're best friends, remember?"

* * *

**i had a dream, which was not all a dream.**

**the bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars**

**did wander darkling in the eternal space,**

* * *

She begins to notice things about him: the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, his shallow dimples whenever he smirks along with the silent support he always has to offer to her. When the nights are unsettling and full of thunder, he holds her under the blankets, safe and content in their own little sanctuary while thunderstorms raged outside, drenching the outside world in darkness.

* * *

**rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth**

**swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;**

**morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,**

**and men forgot their passions in the dread**

* * *

The first week on the run was the worst. She leads them all over the place, away from danger, away from everything she's ever known. But one day it becomes too much and she excuses herself from the group and walks to a clearing in the woods they were currently hiding in to hold herself together.

She flops down on the grass and ignores the twigs in her hair. The stars are faint but if she squints she can see Orion chasing the bear across the heavens.

"I know you're there, Fang," she calls out quietly.

He walks over and lies down her to her.

"It's okay, you know," he says quietly.

Max inclines her head towards his.

"What?" His eyes are focused solely on hers, gaze unflinching.

"It's okay to break down once in a while, Max."

* * *

**of this their desolation; and all hearts**

**were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:**

* * *

The first time she loses him is under a red sunset, matching the huge gash on his side.

She's forced to drag his body to the nearest hospital, forced to stand in the bleak white hallways staring at locked doors with some of the last people she could trust, all dressed in white. She's forced to breathe in the antiseptic clouded air, look at sickly pale bodies on passing medical carts.

"Why'd you do that for me, Fang? You stupid, stupid avian."

He puts his fork down, shoves his half-eaten hospital meal away and shrugs like it's no big deal.

"You know I'll always have your back."

* * *

**and they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,**

**the palaces of crowned kings—the huts,**

**the habitations of all things which dwell,**

**were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,**

* * *

The air is stifling and her wings are cramped, but most of all, she wants to get the Hell out of the gossip filled hallways and curious stares. She wants to strangle the artificial redhead. Wants to shove her out and window and smile smugly; pity that not everybody could be gifted with wings. The stupid Voice is back, saying that she was in love, but she very nearly bashes her head against her locker and tells it to suck it, because she was not in love with her brother and best friend.

Max goes to her last class and accepts a date from a sandy blond by the name of Sam.

* * *

**and men were gather'd round their blazing homes**

**to look once more into each other's face;**

**happy were those who dwelt within the eye**

* * *

The blood is hot and sticky on her forearm, pain excruciating, but she doesn't give two shits. Everything was her fault. The tracker chip and the stupid Voice had to go. Maybe then, the Flock wouldn't be in so much danger. The shiny red liquid is flowing freely now from the sloppy cuts. There's tears in her eyes but she doesn't stop. God, they could be tracking her right now. She's so engrossed in her task that she doesn't hear Fang race up.

"What the fuck, Max?" He lands in the sand next to her and tries to pry the half shell out of her hands.

She clenches the shell tightly and struggles against his arms. "Stop it! I'm trying to cut it out! Maybe then everyone will be safe!" Her voice is shrilly and desperate. "I just need-"

He slaps her across her face.

"You're killing yourself, you idiot!" She's never seen him so mad before, and the fact that she was the cause is enough to snap her out of it. He reaches into his pack and dumps antiseptic on the wound. She doesn't cry out. The sharp sting of the alcohol is nothing compared to the magnitude of her situation.

"I'm sorry," she whispers brokenly. "I'm so sorry, Fang."

He takes out a roll of white cloth. "Max," he says with a resigned sigh,"stop blaming yourself. I've got you. The Flock's got you. You die when we die. And I know you know that."

He finishes bandaging her arm and lets her cry on his shoulder under the stars.

* * *

**of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch:**

**a fearful hope was all the world contain'd;**

**forests were set on fire—but hour by hour**

* * *

"How'd know it wasn't me?"

He throws her a smirk. "Because she tried to cook."

Max stands there for a second, train of thought short circuited, then punches him in the shoulder.

He lets out a genuine laugh; it's a deep, rich sound, and somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks he should laugh more often. "It's true, Max. You know you wouldn't go near a stove."

She sits next to him near the dying embers of the evening fire, watching the rest of the Flock clean up. She wakes up the next morning in a warm embrace and a slip of paper is by her head.

"She put three sugars in her coffee instead of two."

* * *

**they fell and faded—and the crackling trunks**

**extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black.**

**the brows of men by the despairing light**

**wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits**

* * *

She replays the conversation with Fang when she was high on Valium time after time, but she thinks about the kiss in the cave even more.

"Max, I-" She'd cut him off, hadn't wanted to hear it. She'd fled with her gaze on the horizon, never looked him in the eye. She couldn't; didn't want things to change.

The stars are out and they're beautiful out in the wilderness and she doesn't sleep that night, opting to keep watch. Her wind wanders into the inky blackness of the night sky, longing for a time when the world wasn't so fucking complicated.

* * *

**the flashes fell upon them; some lay down**

**and hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest**

* * *

When he leaves with Iggy and Gazzy, she's a tragic mess on the inside. She wants to surrender, kick Ari out and chase him away. She wants to drag him back to be at her side again, but squaring her shoulders and turning away from the sunset is what she really ends up doing.

All because she's Maximum Ride, and she'd rather break her heart than wound her pride.

* * *

**their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;**

**and others hurried to and fro, and fed**

* * *

"Don't ever leave me again."

It was a silent order.

"I won't. Not ever."

It was a promise.

She wraps her arms around strong and familiar shoulders.

"You better not."

She believes him.

* * *

**their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up**

**with mad disquietude on the dull sky,**

**the pall of a past world; and then again**

* * *

"Checkmate."

She stares at him in disbelief. "When did chess become your forte?"

He shrugs. "It's pretty simple, actually. Think, strategize, and anticipate. Jeb taught us once, remember?"

"Well yeah," she says, glancing at the black and white checkered board. She still had most of her pieces, while his black ones were far and scattered.

"One tip, Max. It's okay to sacrifice pieces. By saving as many pieces as you can, you've trapped your king."

She toys with his black queen. "The king's useless. Always relying on people to protect it."

He hums in agreement. "I'd think you'd be a queen."

Before she can answer, the red haired scientist steals him away and she's left with things she'd rather not mull over, across an empty seat with a game of chess.

* * *

**with curses cast them down upon the dust,**

**and gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd**

**and, terrified, did flutter on the ground,**

* * *

The second time he kisses her is sudden, spontaneous, and she kisses him back before realizing what exactly she was doing. She pushes him away rather roughly, sending him sprawling into the snow, black stark against the snowy white.

"Don't," she hisses. She can't do this.

"You need to know," he replies, gazing up at her.

"No, you need to know," she takes a breath, "I can't."

She whips her wings out, leaving him alone in the cold, heart beating but so horribly unsure like the coward she is.

* * *

**and flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes**

**came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd**

**and twin'd themselves among the multitude,**

**hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.**

* * *

"Stop!" She screams, alone on the pier with him. She wonders why she'd agreed to come with him on a date where she knew with absolutely certainty that it would come to this.

"I need an answer, Max. You owe me that much." Max can't fathom why he's so calm.

"I don't owe you anything! It's your fault that we're in this mess!"

"Why are you insisting?"

"You never know until you try."

She scowls and notes that persistent was a trait he should reform.

"I don't know, Fang."

He sighs, deflated. "I knew you were going to say that. You never knew what you wanted, Max. Should we take down Itex, the School, or Jeb? Or save the world? What about me, what about the Flock? What are we going to do today? I'm tired of you thinking that you have a one man-job, thinking that you have to do everything. Tired of the stupid invincible facade you put up. I don't care. You're not like that; to me you'll always be someone I can relate to, be with. The rest of the world can have the Max that is fearless, strong, and a leader. I want the Max that can hurt, cry, and feel. I want the Max that's scared of thunderstorms. I want the coward and best friend, the one that plays war like chess because she never wants to give anyone up."

He looks at her for a while, then looks away. She would look anywhere but her, too, given a chance, but she thinks she can do this and make the first move.

There are no fireworks, time doesn't stop, the world keeps spinning on its axis, but right then and there, she knows it's where she wants to be.

He tastes like mint and relief.

She stares into his eyes, wondering about how they've got this way, and thinks she knows. He's the boy with the crooked smile who always had her back. He's killed for her, guarded her life with his and carried her through storms and heartbreak. He's seen her die under the stars and watched her break under the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She knows.

"Okay."

* * *

**and War, which for a moment was no more,**

**did glut himself again: a meal was bought**

* * *

"Go, Max. Save her. I believe in you."

She turns to him, stunned, but he offers her a smile, thousands of feet underwater in a metal and glass death trap. It's then that she doesn't hesitate to throw her arms around him.

"I'm definitely coming back."

* * *

**with blood, and each sate sullenly apart**

**gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;**

**all earth was but one thought—and that was death**

* * *

Hearing the stupid so-called "prophecy" out of her supposedly "perfect other half"'s mouth is the final straw for her. She grabs Fang's arm and storms out, wishing death and destruction on the Ken doll reincarnate.

"You're not dying on my watch," she snaps at him, alone in a stuffy tent in Africa. "Angel's finally gone crazy, the whole world is crazy, and-"

"Max." He cuts her off. "You're acting like I actually want to be killed."

"You said that Angel's never wrong!"

"I've accepted it, but that doesn't mean you can stop it if it's actually true, Max. You and I both know that."

"For once, Fang, stop being so freaking noble! I don't," she draws a long breath,"Want to lose you. Okay?"

He steps closer and wraps his arms around her.

"Okay."

* * *

**immediate and inglorious; and the pang**

**of famine fed upon all entrails—men**

**died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;**

* * *

She ends up losing him under operating lights and stainless steel tables. She begs and pleads, shaking him on the cold table, willing him to wake up.

"You promised you wouldn't die on me!"

"You said said you'll stay!"

She's hysterical and she ends up slapping him across his face, hands cold and clammy. His skin's still a deathly shade of white but somehow she knows she can save him. Her eyes frantically search the tray next to his head, finally landing on a syringe.

"For emergency use only."

She jams it into his heart without another thought.

* * *

**the meagre by the meagre were devour'd,**

**even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,**

**and he was faithful to a corse, and kept**

**the birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,**

* * *

She ends up burning the letter with a match in the sink, watching the edges of the paper crinkle and ignite, incandescent flames licking and turning the written words into ash. She stands alone in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"You know, Fang," she whispers brokenly. "We always end up wounding the ones we love and hurting those we protect. We can never hate them...just like I can't bring myself to hate you now."

She ends up crying until there's no tears left, ends up laying on her bed with empty eyes watching the ceiling. Sleep never comes to her; mind racing, barely breathing, thoughts far away. She's awake until the first rays of dawn mock her that yes, her heart is hundreds of miles away from her.

* * *

**till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead**

**lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,**

* * *

Dylan corners her in their current safe house in the kitchen. She's wondering if she could grab the kitchen knife to her right without him noticing but he does.

"Look, Max-"

"Don't you dare," she hisses. "I don't care if whack job scientists planted seeds of wisdom in your head, but you should back off."

He starts to say something, annoying persistent, but she holds her ground.

"You don't know me, and never will. You don't have matching scars that tell more stories than a history book, don't have shared memories when thunderstorms felt like they could tear you apart. You will never know how it felt like to watch as someone bleeds to death because of you, never know how it'll feel to be on the other side of a cage and be powerless to help. You say you'll die for me, and I know you will, but it'll be because you have no other choice. But I'll forgive you, because I have somebody else to do that for me because they have a choice."

She feels like she ages five years when she pushes past him and out the door. Everything was too much and she doesn't recover, even after a long flight.

"Why'd you leave me?"

She doesn't expect an answer, but she finds herself asking the moon anyways.

* * *

**but with a piteous and perpetual moan,**

**and a quick desolate cry, licking the hand**

**which answer'd not with a caress—he died.**

* * *

Loneliness is a powerful feeling, and she realizes that two months into his absence. The Flock help her get back on track on stopping the Doomsday group, and to be honest she can't rely on Iggy all the time when he's taking on more responsibilities because of her post heartbreak funk.

"Thanks for everything, Iggy," she says one day after dinner.

He turns and nods at her, and she moves to help him with the dishes.

"You know, I'm worried about you, Max," he says, breaking the comfortable silence they had lapsed into.

"I know, Igs."

He's undeterred by her curt answer. "Promise me one thing Max. Please."

"Yeah?"

"Try getting along with the talking Ken doll. Please. I'm not asking you to be friends with him; just cooperate and stop treating him like a walking disease. I'm tired of your fights."

She reads the underlying message of "I want you to focus on your mission" clearly. She rinses the last plate and turns off the faucet, slinging her arm over Iggy's neck.

"Okay. I promise."

Later that night, they receive a message from Fang about the Doomsday group. She meets Iggy's eyes and he gives a tiny nod. She grabs Dylan's arm before he leaves from the living room.

"We're going to leave tomorrow morning," she tells him, ignoring the shocked look in his eyes. "Pass on the message, will you?"

She doesn't know what to feel anymore.

* * *

**the crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two**

**of an enormous city did survive,**

**and they were enemies: they met beside**

**the dying embers of an altar****—****place**

* * *

She's stuck in a moving four by four death box on cables with him and it's then she knows love isn't enough. The tension is palpable and the silence was making her uncomfortable. But when he decides to make a jab about her and Dylan, all Hell brakes loose.

"So I was replaced by him?"

"So my clone replaced me?"

Her stop dings but she doesn't notice.

"Maybe I'll stop when you stop throwing yourself at my clone!"

"Max, she has a name-"

"Giving her a name doesn't change what or who she is!" She's positively seething now.

"You know what, lay off Dylan, okay?"

The elevator stops and he walks out, but she follows him.

"You have absolutely no right-"

He slams the rooftop door in her face, and she yanks it open, ignoring the wind that was whipping her hair back.

"When did you stop loving me!" She screams at his back. He takes one step closer to the edge and she runs.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm asking!" She's behind him now. "You know what I'm asking, Fang. Say something!"

He whips around, and for the first time, she can't read him.

"Then I think you know the answer, Max."

She's always hated his cryptic answers.

He jumps and spreads his wings, but she's right on his heels. He pulls dangerous banks, swerves in between buildings and bridges, and she screams at him to stop; cold wind ripping her words out and burning her throat.

Sometime later she finally realizes that he really didn't want to talk and brokenly wonders about how they turned into strangers.

* * *

**where had been heap'd a mass of holy things**

**for an unholy usage; they rak'd up,**

* * *

She crashes blindly to the Eiffel Tower's observatory deck, vision clouded with hurt and white hot anger.

"You promised!" She screams into the cold night air, heart in her throat. "You said you'd never leave me! You said you'll stay by my side!"

She knows he can hear, wants him to hear. She wants to watch him break. Wants to wound him like he did her.

"You liar!"

They were supposed to be forever.

"You're a coward, Fang," she says mostly to herself, voice accusing. His promises meant nothing now. They used to be worth their weight in gold but not now, not anymore, not ever again. He ruined them. Ruined her.

She wants to hate him.

* * *

**and shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands**

**the feeble ashes, and their feeble breath**

* * *

She sits on the railing and watches the Paris nightlife down below. If she listens closely she thinks she could hear the laughter of hundreds of people dancing to cheerful beat of music, oblivious to all. Her smile is bitter and she bites her lip. Until now, she never really grasped the fact that happiness really did come at the expense of others.

She wraps her arms around a steel pole and looks down at the ground hundreds of feet below, wondering if she could just tumble head first down, free falling with wings tucked in. How it'll feel when she hits the ground, maybe then he'll care. Wonders how it'll feel with the wind rushing past her, a different kind of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Winged girl falls to her death, the headlines would say.

Max scoffs at herself and tastes blood.

When she looks into the mirror later on that night, she sees the dried tear streaks on her cheek she never knew she had.

* * *

**blew for a little life, and made a flame**

**which was a mockery; then they lifted up**

**their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld**

**each other's aspects—saw, and shriek'd, and died—**

* * *

She bumps into her clone when she heads out alone to grab something to eat in the hotel lobby.

"Max number two," she drawls sardonically. She's tired and cranky as Hell, and ever since she'd seen her all coddled up with Fang earlier in Iggy's room she's wanted to punch something. "Such a delight to see you. Thank you for proving that my day can still get worse." Her voice echoes in the empty lobby.

"It's Maya," the clone retorts sharply. Like she cares. "Although I wouldn't put it past you to remember so many things at once, given the tight brain capacity that you have."

She sneers at Maya. "Oh, I don't think you're in a position to say that. Now, I have better things to do than talking to you."

Max makes sure to shoulder Maya as she passes by, heading to the small cafe tucked around the corner. When she comes around with two croissants in hand, Maya's still standing there, leaning slightly on a marble pillar. The other girl's eyes are silently assessing her even when she walks past, opting to take the stairs than riding the elevator.

"I hate you."

She doesn't stop, doesn't turn around to look at the face that stole everything away.

"You're breaking my heart," she spits, sarcasm lacing every word.

"He misses you."

"He has a great way of showing it." She's a little bitch, but she wants Maya to finally snap. It doesn't take long.

"You're impossible," she snarls. "Actually, I'm glad he ditched you."

Max stops and turns around. "Then why are you talking to me?"

The hateful brown orbs bore directly at her own, but she's unfazed. She's seen that expression in the mirror times before. Then she continues walking, the other girl still following.

"He only likes me because he can't have you."

She doesn't turn around this time and Maya doesn't follow her anymore.

* * *

**even of their mutual hideousness they died,**

**unknowing who he was upon whose brow**

* * *

She goes out to town with Nudge and Dylan, eventually finding more information about the Doomsday group. She lets Nudge run into a chocolatier shop and Dylan pulls her into an alley. His kisses are sweet and soft but she smiles guiltily because no matter how hard she tries, blond hair turns dark and blue shifts into brown speckled with gold specks. When they walk back to the hotel, it's time to part ways and suddenly she doesn't really know how to feel.

He's the first person she sees later; sees him hugging her stupid clone and something breaks inside of her. She stares directly into his eyes.

"I hate you."

But she doesn't, not really.

She walks over to Dylan, slipping her hand into his and inwardly smiling in satisfaction at the anguish written on his face, all the while pushing the churning guilt and discomfort boiling at the pit of her stomach.

"You're cruel." Angel's little girl whisper caresses the depths of her mind.

Max narrows her eyes.

"What about you?"

* * *

**famine had written Fiend. The world was void,**

**the populous and the powerful was a lump,**

**seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—**

**a lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.**

* * *

He hugs her even when she's covered in ash and grime, lets her cry into his shirt while he strokes her hair. She should hate him, but he's the only other person who remotely understands how she's feeling.

She fists his shirt. It's hard to breathe, she doesn't want to breathe, the air is toxic and reeks of failure, but she forces herself to because she has to live to find Angel. He's strong and silent as always. Then she pulls away and looks up at him.

"Thank you," she says hoarsely. The tears still burn in her eyes and she looks away.

He doesn't say anything but she can see everything on his face. She turns and looks at the rubble once more with a determined facade.

She doesn't feel so alone anymore.

* * *

**the rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,**

**and nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;**

* * *

There were nights where she'll stare blankly at the cracks in the ceiling while storms raged outside, mind drifting back to the E-House, far from prying minds and judging eyes.

She rolls over and stares at the blond boy sleeping next to her bed, mind racing, so horribly unsure.

* * *

**ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,**

**and their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd**

**they slept on the abyss without a surge—**

**the waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,**

* * *

Max doesn't see him for a month but it's okay; tries to let herself go whenever she kisses Dylan. She goes to school, keeps the Flock together, and keeps an eye out for the ninety nine percenters. Just when she thinks everything's fine he comes, bruised and broken and she sees the boy she knew a long time ago from the School.

She runs and flings her arms around him without a second thought, but pulls away after she realizes that they had company.

"I'm glad you're in one piece," she says finally. Iggy then drags him off to the shower, with the rest of the Flock towing behind, eventually leaving only her and Dylan.

"Look, Dylan-"

He turns and takes flight, leaving her alone on the empty porch. Something akin to guilt, not sadness, stirs in the pit of her stomach and she knows she's a horrible person.

She loves him, sure, but she's not in love with him.

Later on she'll fight Jeb to the death to save the boy in black, later on she'll shield him form Dylan, later on she thinks that she just might be falling back in love again.

She falls asleep on the plane to the island. And when she wakes he's the first thing she sees, with faint bruises and a crooked smile.

* * *

**the moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;**

**the winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,**

**and the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need**

**of aid from them—**

* * *

There was no escape, she knew that much.

She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around her almost boyfriend and buries her face in his chest, drinking in his minty and natural birdboy musk.

Her mind wanders to a time when they were two kids sharing stories in the dark while thunderstorms raged outside. When she was a girl with a chipped smile and unruly hair, with a dream carried on brown speckled wings, with people she could call family.

She can't find it in herself to believe in that image anymore, as it's replaced by black.

* * *

**she was the universe**

* * *

He shakes her awake; the tranquil blue sky is too bright and cheery for her taste, clouds too white and perfect. Her head throbs to the beat of her heart.

"Is everybody okay?"

He shrugs. "I guess so; last time I heard, they were down in the underground shelters."

She rolls onto her side to face him, winching slightly at her bruised ribs.

"Are you okay?"

He looks everywhere but her face, looks at the tranquil blue.

"I will be."

* * *

**i shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;**

**i lift my lids and all is born again.**

* * *

The air smelled fresh and salty, atmosphere nothing like the moments before she was floored by a monster tsunami wave with her maybe boyfriend.

She sits on top of her treehouse in her little island paradise while the rest of the world crashed and burned with centuries of history wiped away, just like that. The sunset sets the sky ablaze with reds, pinks, and oranges and she thinks if she focuses on the horizon she can imagine the waves swallowing the sun.

* * *

**the stars go waltzing out in blue and red,**

**and arbitrary blackness gallops in**

* * *

Max hears his footsteps before he even says a single word in greeting.

"Dinner's in ten."

He sits down next to her, and she turns around and faces him, arching an eyebrow.

"Dinner, really?" She shoots him an incredulous look, she can't remember the last time anyone ate together, much less having dinner together.

"Yeah, dinner," he says nonchalantly, "It's the last meal of a typical day, usually eaten in the evening-"

She cuts him off and rolls her eyes. "Thanks, genius. Forgive me for being surprised."

"Your mom planned this."

A silence hangs in the air after that, and it feels so wrong. He shifts next to her, and suddenly she knows.

"Hey, you. What's wrong?"

He exhales sharply. "Nothing."

"I hate to say this, but I'd prefer a half assed lie over that answer, any day."

His dark eyes meet her own light ones and she stares defiantly back.

"Spit it out, Fang. What did you really come up here for?"

He tilts his head to side, never breaking her gaze. "I think you know."

She does.

* * *

**i fancied you'd return the way you said,**

**but I grow old and I forget your name.**

**i think I made you up inside my head.**

* * *

She may not have saved the world, but at least she's salvaged pieces of her own, black feathers, sinful smirks and all. They're both beautifully broken, cowards in their own right, wholly imperfect behind closed doors and shuttered windows. They're both wonderful actors in the face of death, love, and in situations where they'll break their hearts than wound their pride. Sometimes she hurts, sometimes she cries, sometimes she lies down on the floor gazing up at the dark sky in the wilderness when they were on the run, wondering what her future held. He brought her back when she died under the stars and carried her when she broke under the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She still plays war like she does chess, and she knows that she can't risk things anymore.

The scar over her heart is still fresh and raw, but she thinks his love is enough, just maybe. Her eyes flicker to where her hands end and where his begin. She sighs, leans over, and places her head to where his scar should be, breathes in the new air and feels all the doubts and worries flux away. Down from the marrow of her bones to the tips of her wings, she knows she could start over.

"Fang."

It's more than a word, more than a name. She can't remember anyone or anything that came before him.

"Max."

He knows.

Carefully, she twists around, hands tugging at his shirt and places her mouth next to his ear.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

He hums a little; it's enough.

Max breathes out and she feels the chains around her heart fall away.

"I love you."

* * *

**i should have loved a thunderbird instead;**

**at least when spring comes they roar back again.**

* * *

.

dark matter

.

FIN

.

yesterday I died

tomorrow's bleeding

I'll fall into your sunlight

.

**notes3:** Hmmm. This turned out to be longer than I expected. I haven't read the series in awhile, so I apologize if the characters and events aren't spot-on.

Wanna drop a review?


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